#92 Like Cats

by Andrew Campbell-Kearsey

“Why on earth did you clean up the blood?”
“The master doesn’t, I mean, didn’t like a mess.”
The detective walked away from the housekeeper, cursing the destruction of key evidence.
“Maybe we’ll get some DNA from the grouting between the tiles” she said to a subordinate.
Sarah hadn’t cracked a case in months. Apparently the homeowner had fallen down the stairs and split his head open. Everyone was assuming accidental death. This type of case would usually be handled by a uniform but the commissioner sent Sarah as the victim was a multimillionaire celebrity. With no family he’d left his vast fortune to a local feline protection charity. There were no disgruntled staff. He’d been an exemplary employer. The forensic team finished their work and packed up. Sarah walked around the garden, convinced things weren’t as they appeared.

A cat crossed her path and headed towards the open parlour door. Sarah observed the same cat speedily exit ten seconds later accompanied by the harshly shrieked, “Get out of here you, flea-ridden moggie!” Sarah recognised the voice of the unseen housekeeper.

Sarah needed to connect very few dots to solve the case. A cursory internet search revealed the achievements of the charity – all fictitious. It was founded by a woman whose surname coincidentally matched the maiden name of the housekeeper. She confessed to pushing her former employer.

Sarah couldn’t help wonder why criminals were so careless in covering their tracks, unlike cats. She decided to treat hers to sardines tonight.

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